<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Structural | Kinktober 2020 by Saeva</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26816143">Structural | Kinktober 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saeva/pseuds/Saeva'>Saeva</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Architecture Series [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Feminization, Humiliation, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Light Sadism, M/M, Mirror Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:35:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,368</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26816143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saeva/pseuds/Saeva</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kinktober 2020 is here! Note: Some scenes will only account for one day while others, like this first one, will cover multiple days of kink.</p><p>This work is part of two series. The first, Kinktober 2020, will include various pairings from multiple fandoms. </p><p>The second is The Architecture Series. You don't have to be familiar with Architecture to read the kink scenes; all you need to know is that Harry has dubiously consent to marriage with a sane, kinky version of Voldemort in order to protect his friends. The scenes set in The Architecture Series won't necessarily be in chronological order and only some with appear in the main series later on. </p><p>Structural: Chapter 01<br/>Day 01 - 03: Feminization; Humiliation; Mirror Sex (Harry/Voldemort)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Architecture Series [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632745</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>117</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Structural | Kinktober 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Context: Voldemort's had a political set-back and plans to work out some of his anger on a disposable victim. Harry, knowing Voldemort can't go too far with him, volunteers instead.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Take this.” </p><p>Harry hesitates in reaching out for the vial and Marvolo’s eyebrow goes up. “What’s in it?”</p><p>“Harry, if you don’t want to do this I can go find some other outlet.” Then, realising that sounds like he might wish to fuck someone else, he adds, “A non-sexual outlet.” </p><p>“A punch-bag.” That pretty mouth twists tightly before the expression smoothes out. “No. I’d rather do this.” He grabs the potion and downs it. </p><p>The changes are subtle but this is the first time he’s seen his consort looking like he has an ounce of fat to lose safely. He likes it and not only because it gives Harry slight curves, no longer all wiry muscle and sharp lines. “It’s a weight gain potion. Most of it fades off in 12 hours but if taken regularly it will help you put on some weight.” Brushing a hand over his hip, Marvolo warns, “Now I’m going to cast two spells.” </p><p>The first spell adds curve to the chest, not quite breasts but enough extra fat to make a nice swell, and the second puffs up the nipples enough to look like he’s been playing with them for an hour or more. He steps back to survey the changes. </p><p>Yes, this is good. Even in the under-robe he can see the consequences of the light changes, gently altering Harry’s anatomy and making him slightly more feminine. He steers Harry away from the mirror, covering it as an afterthought, and moves on to making up clothing. “Close your eyes and remove your clothing, pet. I want this to be a surprise.” </p><p>No resistance this time. Good. </p><p>Marvolo busies himself with the transfiguration of Harry’s typical clothing, using a soft shirt and the semi-sheer, loose underwear out of the wardrobe to lay it on the bed. Socks and shoes join it. </p><p>He wants the correct effect. The loose underwear is first, shrinking into a band of fabric made of tight blue lace before adding a silky pouch for his consort’s soft cock and altering the back just so to create a tied up backside, perfect for access. He won’t need to remove these to fuck Harry. </p><p>The soft shift becomes a matching blue, silky camisole with broad straps and a low neckline to emphasise the tiny, swollen breasts for Marvolo’s pleasure. Yes, this will be lovely. </p><p>Socks become lacy stockings with silk tie garters, also in blue, and then, finally, he makes a pair of dressy slippers into heeled versions of themselves. </p><p>“Eyes closed,” he reminds, “and foot up.” He slips the first part of the knickers on. “Other foot.” There, all the way up, slipping over that full arse, and ending at the tight muscles below his belly button.  Most of his backside is uncovered, the lacy light blue material making a band of fabric over his waist and upper arse but leaving his hole bare for fucking. The front pouch gives him some pretend modesty. Little ties dangle from the knickers and Marvolo puts the lacy stockings on Harry next. Next: the soft sole slippers with a short, broad heel that will make him feel slightly off balance. Finally Marvolo orders, “Arms up,” and slips on the long silk camisole, pleased when it ends at Harry’s upper thighs -- exactly enough to mimic modesty by reaching the curve of his arse while making him feel as if he’s wearing a dress all at the same time. </p><p>When Marvolo steps back to check his work he smiles. Yes, this is right. Harry looks good like this, pretty and soft without crossing the line too far in womanising for the sake of humiliation. The light blue fabric contrasts his lightly tan nicely and the girlish look will be severe enough to satisfy Marvolo’s sadism. He moves the mirror off the vanity and extends it to stand on the floor, full-length.</p><p>“Open your eyes and come here.” Harry, graceful on land or in air, teeters for a moment as the shoes don’t work like he expects but then compensates as Marvolo steps away from the mirror. </p><p>He can see the precise moment that his sweet consort finds the mirror in the wide eyes and the scarlet brush of his cheeks, in the hunch of his shoulders, straining against the spell that encourages good posture, and trying to curl in on himself. </p><p>“Shoulders back, pet.” Harry shivers against doing it but then, slowly, his shoulders go back. “Not quite complete.” Yes, one final spell would do, creating a pink gloss on his full cupid’s bow lips. It makes the fullness of his mouth stand out even more. Marvolo watches the slightly too wide, rapidly blinking eyes on his consort. It has an edge of panic and Marvolo sinks all of his authority in an order: “Go on, Harry. Do a turn.” As a reminder, he adds, “You wished to stay.”</p><p>The boy whimpers under his breath, his lips pressed tightly together where he can no doubt taste the strawberry of the gloss, and he turns on the heels a bit awkwardly. </p><p>“Stop. Look over your shoulder.” Now Marvolo steps close, watching the way the vulnerability registers on his sweet pet, the way he notices that his arse is still open to manipulation with the string stretched tight across his full cheeks. The spell overlaying a vaginal sensitivity to his body is still active for a little while longer and Marvolo slowly removes the plug, sending it to the bathroom sink. It leaves his pet so very open and twitching. “Good pet.” </p><p>Harry settles slightly, looking up at him. “Yes, husband.” When given the chance to nuzzle into a hand cupping his face he takes it. Over the past two and a half weeks he’s embraced the gentle touches Marvolo works into their interactions, both for the boy’s sake and because he enjoys touching Harry, even non-sexually. </p><p>Harry <i>belongs</i> to him and every time he melts under a soft touch from Marvolo he shows it. </p><p>“You look lovely. Not a look for every day, of course, but putting you in something pretty occasionally does appeal to me.” The camisole does nothing to cover up the marks along his neck and collarbones, bright red splotches in the shape of fingertips and teeth interspersed with places where Marvolo sucked on the skin until it bruised. </p><p>He steps back and Harry’s attention goes back to the mirror over his shoulder, following his last order. His spine is tense and his arse tight, humiliation still warring within him. </p><p>Marvolo leads him over to the bed, lowering it by half a foot and instructing him to put his elbows near the edge and bend over. The boy’s hole, so used to being full, twitches gently, clenching around a toy that’s no longer there. Marvolo summons the mirror over and duplicates it, turning the copy lengthwise to stick to the headboard. Another spell makes the right half of the mirror reflect the one from behind Harry and the left half shows his front. </p><p>There, perfect, Harry will be unable to escape how he looks and he seems to realise it as he tries to lower his eyes. Marvolo taps the bottom of his chin chiddingly. “Keep your eyes on me or the mirror at all times. Now, bend forward and arch your back.” </p><p>He increases the heels slightly, the artificial help adding to the arch in Harry’s back, his legs instinctively spreading to aid his balance, and his arse pushing up and more open as his back arches prettily. The spell that encourages his shoulders back helps, the upper section still straight while the bottom half curves up. He increases the heels until Harry has a counterbalance to being on his toes, helping stabilise his posture. </p><p>Harry’s eyes, forward and still wide and blinking rapidly in nervous shock at his appearance -- the same expression he wore the first night when the plug slid in and teased his prostate for the first time -- makes Marvolo harden in his pants. The shame is delicious and he licks his lips at the expression his pretty consort wears. Then he strips the outer robe and strokes himself through the two layers of fabric, groaning quietly. </p><p>Then his hand finds Harry’s bare hole and touches gently. He chuckles lightly. “Oh, look who’s wet for me. Is someone a little aroused?” </p><p>“It was the plug.” Harry clutches wildly at the excuse. </p><p>Marvolo pulls back his hand. “Was it? The plug, not that you’re enjoying looking so very pretty for me? You look delectable, lovely, in your silk and lace underthings. Anyone would be lucky to have you but you’re all mine.” He feels the press of strong emotion -- pleasure, nerves, shamed arousal -- coming from Harry and pets the boy’s long hair. </p><p>“Mars, may I know what you plan on doing now?” </p><p>“No. I’m not giving you a chance to brace yourself.” Harry sucks in a breath at that and shivers again. And then Marvolo touches the empty hole, rubbing it over with the pad of his thumb, and feels a small gush of slick. He laughs gently. “Is someone excited to be fucked?” </p><p>Harry bites his lip and Marvolo grabs the hair, a quick, tight grip at the base of the skull to yank it upwards and force a further arch back. “Mars!” </p><p>“You will answer me. You will be honest. You will not hesitate. Do you understand the rules?” </p><p>“Yes!” Then, softer, “Yes, I understand. And, uh, I, oh.” He blinks at the mirror, the side that shows the view from behind where his arse pushes into the air, his thighs opened far enough to spread his cheeks as well and show his damp hole. His face burns, his pulse jumping in his neck. “Yes,” he says quietly. “I’m excited.” </p><p>“Good girl.” </p><p>He whines behind his teeth, squirming with the shame of it all. This is going to be breathtaking.</p><p> </p><p><i>Good girl. <b>Good girl!</b></i> </p><p>He whines, high and, fuck, girlishly, behind his clenched teeth, shifting on his feet as well as he can while teetering on these fucking heels. Merlin, his feet arch so strangely, in a way that keeps reminding him ‘<i>I’m dressed like a bloody girl!</i>’ even more than the lacy knickers and silky top do. </p><p>The wizard-style pants he’s been restricted to since the wedding are still strange enough that the stupid lacy knickers look stranger but only feel stranger in the back, where a shoelace-like tie seems to hold them together. The smooth top is… pretty and soft and smooth against his skin. </p><p>But the bloody shoes are awful. They push his arse up, make him open his legs, and are high, causing a dangerous… helplessness. </p><p><i>Oh.</i> He curls his toes in and releases. </p><p>Behind him Marvolo runs a finger over the rim, pressing in gently before teasingly moving away. Harry twitches. And his husband laughs, all too pleased with himself. “Yes, good girl, getting so wet for my cock. Let’s see. Reach back towards your thighs. You can keep balance by rolling your shoulders forward.” </p><p>He breathes out slowly, scooting his bent arms back as far as he can and then, yes, rolling his shoulders forward to brace himself when he straightens his arms out underneath him. Wide lacy ties wrap around his wrists, matching his outfit, and looking at the rear view he can see them get attached to his… </p><p>“What are the things holding my socks up?” </p><p>“Rather than socks those are stockings, pretty, with garter belts holding them up. If you stop arching your back you’ll regret it, Harry. Do you believe me?” </p><p>He huffs in and out, quick, because he does. “Yes.” Fear clenches at his stomach, his thoughts lingering on the expression Marvolo wore when he said it couldn’t be pain because he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from scarring Harry. This was better than that. This is much better than knowing his own cowardice would mean his husband searching out some poor soul to torture. Even a Death Eater, who might deserve it, would be bad. </p><p>Marvolo wouldn’t take things so far with Harry. Torture was impossible. Pain bearable. This--</p><p>“So lovely.” A warm hand strokes his spine through the top. “Tell me something else you love me doing to you, lovely.” </p><p><i>Answer. Be honest. Don’t hesitate.</i> “I like when you bite my neck.” He glances away from the mirror because the angle hurts his neck, what with his legs behind him. </p><p>Mars notices. Of course he does. He's always bloody watching. Another standing mirror, to the side and reflecting both views of him, appears to his left. He can see the other man better now, watch the side of his face and the way it curves in a pleased smirk. “Oh? How do you like it best?”</p><p>His need twists in the sudden image of his answer, the truth of it, and he buries most of his face in the duvet. His mouth he needs uncovered. “From behind.” </p><p>“Go on. I know you can manage more detail than that.” </p><p>“Mars!” He wants to protest but he chose to be here. He could walk out at any time. He knows Marvolo would let him go and pick another victim. No. Damnit, no. “When you put me on my hands and knees, or bent over the bed, or across the desk, and, and bite. That’s how I like it best!” </p><p>He sounds stroppy but, for once, Mars doesn’t seem at all fussed about his tone. In fact, he sounds pleased when he answers. His voice thickens with arousal, a little deeper than before. “Only bite or hold you down and bite?” </p><p>“... Hold me down.” Harry’s voice is small and he shudders when he feels the heat of the larger man draping over his back, an almost gentle hand pressing his temple a little back and down harder against the bed. Teeth grip the curve of his neck hard and he rides the pain, whimpering. </p><p>He can feel the cock pressed firm against his arse, hardening, and he rocks back. But the heat pulls away. </p><p>“Good girl,” his husband repeats. “Name something else you enjoy.” </p><p>Throwing out a thought to say ‘bathe me’, even though it’s true, because he doesn’t think the mood is right for it, he offers, “Touch my thighs,” instead. Again the prompt for details. “Sometimes you use your nails to scrape and pinch the inside of them, or you push them apart and I can’t close them.”</p><p>“I’ve ordered them open or I’m holding them open?” </p><p>He squirms in arousal, shiny around his hole in the mirror and wet where it slowly slides towards his silk pouch holding his soft cock. “Hold.” </p><p>“I sense a theme, darling.” He expects his thighs to be pushed open but Marvolo shifts down to wrap his big hands around from the outside, nails digging in and pulling out at the same time. </p><p>The heels, the lack of hands, the order to arch combine and he stumbles as the hands pull Harry open wide. He feels unsteady and wants to kneel on the bed or spread flat on his stomach but both would break position. “Please, may I kneel up on the bed, husband?” </p><p>“Since you asked politely, yes. Here.” And Mars lifts him, pushing him forward on his chest, the arch in his back more severe, his thighs held wide, and the man isn’t even straining. </p><p>“How much stronger than normal are you?” Harry asks because he’s noticed the way Marvolo moves him around before. </p><p>The look on his face when Harry tries to curve backward to see him without losing position makes him freeze. It’s not cruel or mocking or angry. It’s <i>curious</i>. There’s going to be a <i>test</i>.</p><p>The ties on his wrists release. The bed shifts up, closer to its normal height. Mars’s big hand presses down on Harry’s back, between his shoulder blades, so warm through the silk, and the other hand presses his thighs closer together so Marvolo can stretch his fingers over the curve where thighs meet bum and hold him up. </p><p>The touch stays firm, a gentle reminder to stay in position, before his husband says, so very softly, “Try to break position. You may use your hands.” </p><p>Slipping his hands up, to the side of his shoulders, like he plans to do a push-up, Harry tries to shove himself up and slide off the bed in the same movement. There’s pressure suddenly -- a hard point on his back, fingers digging into his thighs and arse -- and he reverses, trying to shove back instead, using the bed to squirm and twist and kick his legs. One foot connects, hitting the other man’s shin, and he hears a soft grunt at the sudden pain. </p><p>He rolls his hips, bucking forward and then <i>turn</i>, getting himself twisted so that he’s on his side from waist down and still on his front, then he shoves one elbow back, trying to turn there, and the pressure breaks. He’s on his back now and -- </p><p>Oh, oh, Marvolo forces his thighs open with one hand and presses down on his belly with the other, holding him there with that single, inescapable touch. His left leg lifts, stretching high, straight into the air, and then he feels the cockhead at his wet hole before Mars pushes in. </p><p>There’s nothing he can do. Harry can’t move from the waist down at all except to kick his right leg. He can’t reach anything except Marvolo’s arm and when he tries to yank at that, then hit, the other man barely twitches. He’s always been strong enough to simply hold him down and fuck him. Harry collapses, panting. In the mirror, above him, he can see a hand reaching towards his neck. No- Higher.</p><p>Fingers press into his mouth when he tilts his head back. He catches the act in the mirror, watches Marvolo reach up his body and slip two fingers in to fuck his mouth. His gloss leaves a splash of pink on them and that’s wiped against his chin before Mars moves. A few slow thrusts and Harry’s so entirely empty again. He aches to be fucked so bad it’s humiliating. He wants the fingers back to suck on. But he won’t beg. </p><p>“Such a good girl for your husband.” There’s a small trickle of liquid down his crack and Harry takes in a shuddering breath. “Do you enjoy being held down like this then?” </p><p>“Yes.” It’s more a sigh than a sound. He shouldn’t, the number of times that Dudley’s gang held him down to beat on him, but he knows if he panics Mars, even in this mood, would let him up. Mars is <i>invested</i> in Harry’s health, as strange as it sounds. Trying to purge his memories, focus on the pleasure, he tries to rock his hips and asks, “Please take me.” </p><p>“Hmm. I’m going to try something, Harry, and if it upsets you I need to know immediately.” </p><p>“I- Uh- Okay?” He feels a pinch at his bollocks and then the low grade achiness of his sex disappears, a sudden moment between arousal and neutrality. The spell to kill arousal! Why would he -- </p><p>Harry freezes as he feels the press of a cock inside of him but without the pleasure he expects. It doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t ache or make him moan. He isn’t riding waves of building need until he’s pushed over. He’s being <i>taken</i>. Not a synonym for fucked, a non-crude alternative, but in a way that’s entirely about his husband’s pleasure and not his own. Harry doesn’t even have the comfort of the building arousal he gets when his mouth is fucked. He can feel the shaft twitching inside of him, hear the soft exhalations as the other man chases his own pleasure, shake under the hard thrusts and harder hold, and it makes him relax. </p><p>This is what he wanted that first night, before he understood the pleasures of sex -- for Voldemort to use him to get off and finish this. Now it has a different undertone. </p><p>Harry’s sure he’ll get his own pleasure too. Certain that they’re not done for the time, not in the mood the other man’s in. But for the moment all he has to do here is relax, be held down, and clench around the hard flesh inside of him on the stroke in, the way Mars likes. Fingers slip back between his lips and he sucks on them gently, liking the fullness in his mouth. No more active participation is necessary. </p><p>When the rhythm finally breaks, three hard thrusts jar Harry’s whole body, the strange heat inside of him even more shocking than usual. “Tighten your pretty hole to keep my seed inside of you.” </p><p>He does, breathing slow and deep, warm and secure. He wants to try a gag again, next time this happens. If there is a next time. A hand cups his tummy for a long, strange moment, as if the cock can be felt from that side, and then he’s empty <i>again</i>. “Dun like it,” he says quietly. “Plug? Please?” </p><p>“No, lovely. I know how much you love being filled but that’s not what I want of you right now. Tell me, Harry, did you enjoy that the way you thought you would the night we married?” </p><p>His cheeks flush and he looks up at Marvolo, watching those dark eyes and the fierce expression on his face. Possessive now, not only curious. “Better. I know now that you’ll allow me pleasure later. You’ll reward me for being good for you. I was good for you.” It’s not a question. He knows he was. </p><p>But the words still wash over him when he hears, “Yes. Very good.” Now that the hands no longer no him down, he turns back onto his front, arching his back perfectly while staying on his elbows. It helps keep everything inside of him. The pleasure floods back in and somehow he isn’t surprised when he’s asked. “Tell me something else you love, darling.”</p><p>So it goes. Marvolo stops doing the things but he makes Harry state each thing clearly, no longer allowing a simple statement. “I love how you… I love it when…” on and on. The mirrors are constant. He has messy gloss and a smear of it on his chin, like he’s been using his mouth on something far less innocent than fingers, and he can see himself as he speaks. </p><p>He admits he loves the sharp pains, the way that his nipples are sucked into bruising, being fucked, a hand around his throat, the <i>rimming</i>, being made to orgasm over and over, so many, many things. Harry wants to stop. When he whimpers and says, “I love the way you put me under your desk to hold you in my mouth, husband,” the squirming embarrassment of it all peaks and he thinks about giving into the urge to cry. He has cried in front of Marvolo, when the pleasure or fear overwhelmed him, but he never let himself choose to cry before. </p><p>“Name something else that you’d love for me to do to you right now. It can be a new thing to try.”</p><p>But it isn’t. It’s simple. He only has to say it. Admit he wants it. <i>Ask for it.</i> He shudders. He wants to cry. Not because Marvolo made him but because it feels good. It feels good to let himself feel things: pleasure, shame, need, fear, vulnerability. He could never afford it before. </p><p>“I want a spanking, please. And touch. Not like when you used a paddle and didn’t touch me.” </p><p>“Of course.” He watches a pillow be placed in the middle of the bed. “Lie down over it, little one, on your stomach with your legs together.” He does and this close he can better see his own red face, ready for spanking, in the mirror and, from the back, the shoes come off and he can better see the lacy, pretty blue of the stockings. He licks his lips and tastes sweet strawberries, the pink of the gloss making him look more girly. </p><p>The slight smear makes him look almost naughty. He stiffens at a strange thought and Mars strokes down his back, a calming petting motion he’s done dozens of times before. </p><p>“Harry?” </p><p>“I had a weird thought. It’s not important.” </p><p>“No, I think it is. Tell me.” And there’s the cruelty back, the hardness of his anger, raised so easily right now. </p><p>“I -- I look like a girl. With my hair long and this gloss. I can feel my chest. You did something. And I’m in knickers. You could put a dress over this and my normal dressy shoes and I’d look like a girl. You’re in an awful mood and you’re trying to humiliate me and only doing this won’t work as well next time. I adapt really well.” </p><p>“Yes, that’s all true.” A hand strokes over his hair, carding through it, and Harry turns to look at his husband’s face for a moment instead of in the mirror. “Go on. You’ve thought of something I might do next time, haven’t you?” </p><p>“Take me out.” That’s it. That’s the thing Marvolo might do next time, drinking in every moment of Harry’s humiliation as he pretends to be a girl in public. Not in the magical world, they’re both too recognizable there, but in the Muggle one. </p><p>“I think a nice dinner out would be lovely,” Marvolo says quietly. Yes, he’s going to do it. Not now but eventually. “Of course perhaps next time you won’t <i>volunteer</i>.” </p><p>But he will. Harry knows he will. It’s still better than the alternative.</p><p>Marvolo lays down on his side, his body heat crowding in, and throws a leg over both of Harry’s. A hand -- warm and firm and strong -- kneads his bum and lips touch his shoulder, gentle, before the first slap. It’s so warm -- he can turn his head into the other man’s neck, high up by the jaw -- and the smacks grow firm, edging on the way to pain even as the pleasure grows too. </p><p>Harry lets go before it even really <i>hurts</i>.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>Ϟ</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>